


Just Like Heaven

by asukesay



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asukesay/pseuds/asukesay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All it took was a simple brush of Suga’s fingers for Daichi’s entire world to turn upside down.</p><p>Or; holy shit, I’m in love with my best friend, and the painfully awkward, sometimes unfortunate situations that follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you're just like a dream

**Author's Note:**

> You; soft and only  
> You; lost and lonely  
> You; strange as angels  
> Dancing in the deepest oceans, twisting in the water;  
> You're just like a dream...you're just like a dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't need to tell him; he could keep these feelings to himself; he could push them away again for as long as he needed, never breathing a word to Suga or anyone.

It happens on a Tuesday.

And up until lunch, it’s a pretty normal Tuesday; there are no inklings that it would be any different from Wednesday, or Thursday, or the days that followed. Maybe if there were, Daichi would have just stayed in bed, or at least tried to brace himself for what was coming. But it feels like any other boring school day, and it starts off the same way it always does.

Daichi sleeps through his alarm like he did the day before – and really, every day if he’s being honest. He speeds through his shower and getting dressed in his uniform - but he takes his usual 5 minutes to rummage through his duffle bag to make sure he hasn’t forgotten his practice uniform or his shoes – and a glance at the clock on the kitchen wall has him skipping breakfast, ignoring his mother’s worried pestering.

“I’ll be fine!” He promises, waving goodbye as he sprints out the front door. And he will. Depending on how fast he runs, he can usually make a quick stop at Ukai-san’s shop and still make it to school before class starts, even though the coach isn’t all too happy to see him so early in the morning.

“Shouldn’t the Captain be at least a _little_ more responsible?” He grumbles, as he does every day, before tossing him a freshly baked pork bun and threatens to make him run extra laps at practice that afternoon. “And if I hear that you’re late from Takeda, I’m going to make _everyone_ run laps!”

But Daichi is already out the door before he can finish his sentence, leaving the blonde grumbling and lighting up another cigarette. Daichi removes the pork bun from the paper bag, crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it into the trash bin beside the lamp post at the front of the shop without slowing down. He doesn’t check his watch in fear of what numbers he’ll see staring back at him, so he shoves his food into his mouth and takes off in a full on sprint towards the school.

He makes it into classroom 3-4 just seconds before the bell rings, sliding into his seat with a sigh as he tries to catch his breath. His near-tardiness isn’t a surprise to anyone anymore, so aside from a teasing, ‘late again, Daichi-san?’ from a girl to his left and a not unkind eye roll from Sugawara in his direction, no one bats an eye, and the chattering around him doesn’t stop until the teacher calls for attention.

He dozes off once or twice, each time being rudely kicked in the back of the chair by Suga behind him, just like every other day. He stares down at the worksheet on his desk, trying to make sense of the English words spelled out in front of him like a foreign language ( _oh yeah_ , he thinks, _that’s exactly what it is_ ) which is anything but unusual because English never has been or never will be his best subject.

He glances at the clock at the front of the room, watching the arms tick by almost mockingly slow, and tries to will time to go faster. But there is nothing special about this boring Tuesday, so Daichi suffers at the same speed he always does.

He slumps in his seat, glancing towards the windows on the far side of the classroom, already hungry and wishing for lunchtime, wanting the day to be over quickly so he can quell his thirst for practice, fingers itching to feel the cool leather of a volleyball in his hands. He always feels too restless sitting still for so long, and with the inter-high prelims coming up he doesn’t think he’s alone in his eagerness. In fact, he can definitely hear the sound of Suga’s bouncing knee hitting the underside of his desk behind him.

The rest of the team is probably no better – he wonders if any of his teammates are paying attention in class at that moment.

He smiles to himself, even as the teacher makes his rounds and slaps a ruler on his desk to scold him; ‘Pay attention!’ If his one-track minded teammates could give their all in practice and give even more during their first official matches of the year, he has no doubt in his mind that the Unflying Crows of Karasuno Volleyball Club would be soaring above everyone’s heads before long.

.

.

By the time lunch rolls around (and it certainly took its sweet time), and Daichi follows the movements of his classmates around him and stands, stretching and popping his back - he’s absolutely famished.

“You slept through your alarm again, didn’t you?” Suga scolds, handing Daichi the uneaten portion of his bento because of course the brunette had forgotten to even think about his lunch in his morning rush, and Suga was always, _always_ too kind to let his best friend and Captain go hungry. They're sitting in the middle of a staircase at the east wing of the school; it's not their usual lunch spot, but with spring in full bloom and pollen absolutely everywhere, Suga hadn't wanted to spend more time outside than was strictly necessary. They were pretty much out of the way there, anyways. Enough so that Suga could stretch his legs out on the steps below without feeling like a bother. And should someone need to walk past them, it was easy enough to shift to the side. Suga sighs. “I told you to set your phone alarm as well.”

Daichi is nothing if he isn’t grateful, but he can’t help but roll his eyes at Suga’s concern. “Okay, Mom.” He doesn’t take a breath as he inhales the last of the food – mackerel and sweet rice - but he does say through a mouthful, “My phone is too loud in the morning, anyway.”

Suga smiles. Shaking his head, he says, “That’s kind of the point.”

But Daichi doesn’t think Suga quite understands. It’s not like he _wants_ to be late – he could set a thousand alarms and sleep through them all. It was just who he was as a human being; basically the polar opposite of Suga. Suga, who Daichi doesn’t think has been late for anything in his life and who would probably die of guilt if he was.

But Daichi can’t blame him for being such a stickler, just like Suga couldn’t blame Daichi for being, well…not a stickler. So the brunette settles for an empty glare, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth as Suga scoots against the wall opposite of him to make room for the trio of first year girls coming down the stairs. They giggle at the both of them, faces reddening as they pass, and as soon as they think they’re out of ear shot, one of them whispers, “The silver-haired one is so cute!”

Suga blushes up to his ears, and Daichi snorts. “Don’t get a swelled head, Suga. You’re not that cute.”

But he really was – with his long, dark lashes and big caramel-colored eyes. Not to mention that cute little beauty mark and smooth, milky skin; and the fact that he was 5’8 inches of lean, toned muscle. True, he wasn’t as ripped as, say, Asahi, or Daichi himself for that matter, but Daichi could definitely see attractive qualities in a body like Suga’s. Soft enough to be considered delicate, but sturdy enough to hold his own.

Plus, Daichi thinks, absent-mindedly chewing at the end of his chopsticks, Suga’s mouth was pretty too – he was always chewing on his bottom lip during practice, either from concentration or frustration, and whenever his teeth would release that appendage from their hold it would always match the color of the flush high on his cheeks that he got from overexertion from the constant diving and jumping during practice.

And now that surprisingly pretty mouth is saying teasingly, “You’ve got rice on your face, and on your uniform! Should I get you a bib, Daichi?” And the silver-haired boy reaches over with long fingers and brushes the grain of rice off of Daichi’s bottom lip, fingernails grazing down his chin before his hand drops back to his side and he’s off talking about something else.

It’s a simple gesture – one that Suga’s definitely done before (Daichi really _was_ a messy eater) but it’s enough to snap the brunette out of whatever Suga-induced trance he was in and bring him back to the present.

And just like that, the absolutely ordinary, normal, boring Tuesday Daichi assumed he was going to be the same as any other day, is suddenly _anything but_ an absolutely ordinary, normal, boring Tuesday.

Um...wait. Was…was Daichi _attracted_ to Suga?

Yeah, he thought the silver-haired male was good looking – how could he _not be_ with that pretty face? And put his sweet, perpetually nurturing personality on top of it and Suga was a god damned angel.

That didn’t mean he wanted to date him or anything.

Not that that would be horrible, Daichi thinks. They already get along really well – and would it be all that different if they were boyfriends? Suga would still hang out at his place and play video games; they would still practice volleyball with everything they had and they would still cheer each other on during matches. There would just be…hand-holding, probably. And kissing, in private, because Daichi’s not really into PDA. He doesn’t think so, anyway. He could be; he’s never had a girlfriend – so who knows? He wouldn’t mind kissing Suga in front of anyone, though he thinks that Suga might have a heart attack from embarrassment if he did. So maybe no PDA, but that doesn’t mean that in private they couldn’t –

Wait. Wait, wait, wait, _wait_. _Why_ is he thinking about kissing Suga? Daichi isn’t even _gay_ …

…right?

If Suga notices the change in the atmosphere around them, or Daichi’s inner turmoil, he doesn’t comment on it. He stands; pausing on the step below to dust off his pants, and says, “I’m going to get a banana milk from the vending machine. Want anything?”

Daichi just shakes his head, and Suga shrugs, a spring in his step as he bounds down the rest of the stairs, but Daichi feels himself glued to his spot on the against the railing because is he gay for his best friend?

He thinks about the girls his age; immediately Michimiya and Kiyoko-san come to mind. Daichi thinks about Michimiya’s wide smile and Kiyoko-san’s blue eyes and pouty mouth. Now that he thinks about it, and only now that he’s really, _really_ thinking about it, Daichi can acknowledge that they’re both beautiful girls. Why hadn’t he noticed before? He’s around Kiyoko-san every single day – as Captain, he’s the one she speaks to most, besides the coaches; and Tanaka and Noya gushed over her constantly, so why had it taken him this long to think of her as a woman?

He tries to imagine kissing her; seeing Kiyoko-san’s small smile after they’ve won a match, and walking off the court to take her face in his hands and kiss that smile right off of her face.

But the minute his hands cup her cheeks she’s grown 4 inches, and his thumb is brushing that familiar mole and big brown eyes are staring right back at him from under those dark grey lashes. Soft curves give way into hard muscle and Suga is kissing him and nothing has ever felt more right –

Shit.

And there they were; his true feelings, out in the open - waving in his face in the form of his silver-haired best friend, giving him no other choice than to face them head on.

He wants to say he’s surprised. He wants to say that realizing maybe he’s not as straight as he once thought was a totally earth-shattering experience; that he can feel the ground crumbling under his feet and he feels like he’s running, stumbling trying to get a hold on the last shred of normal that he can find before there is nothing keeping him anchored to the ground and he’s being swallowed whole by the bottomless black pit underneath his feet –

He wants to say that, but he can’t.

Perhaps he always knew in the back of his mind. Maybe he'd always known he'd preferred something solid over something soft. Maybe he’d been so focused on other things like volleyball and his final year of high school and the mountains of schoolwork that came out of left field, not to mention the looming threat of entrance exams, that he’d just pushed it aside to deal with some other time; when things weren’t so crazy. He’d metaphorically dumped the ball to the other side of the net, handing it off to the other team until he could take the time to figure it out on his own – living on edge and in fear for when enough was enough and the ball would come rocketing back into his side of the court. Living on edge and in fear because what if he wasn't ready to receive it?

But could he ever have guessed that it would be Suga – sweet, constant Suga – that would be the one gripping him by the shoulders, screaming in his face until he could no longer ignore it? How was Daichi supposed to know that it was _Suga_ on the opposing side of the net?; how could he have ever known that, always the perfect setter, Sugawara Koushi would be the one to catch him completely off guard, setting Daichi up so, _so_ high just to spike right back in his face?

Yeah, perhaps he’s always known. And it had been so gradual, so slowly creeping up behind him that when he thinks he should feel so terrified he wants to crawl out of his skin, Daichi just feels like it was about damn time.

And as for it being his best friend that made him come to this should-be startling discovery, he wants to feel hurt, or betrayed – _something_ ; but he doesn’t.

What he was expecting to feel like he’s at Nationals – and he’s letting everyone down, missing the receives that are so easy to save that even Hinata could do it with ease, and his best friend is staring at him with a disappointment in his eyes so deep he’s unrecognizable - doesn’t feel like that at all.

To Daichi, it feels like they’re just practicing. Like it’s a sunny afternoon in the courtyard outside and he’s tossing the ball to Suga, and Suga is setting it right back to him and Daichi is exactly where he needs to be to receive it.

To Daichi, it feels like coming home.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been there, staring into his hands with too many thoughts rolling around in his head like a tidal wave, but the next thing he knows Suga is back in front of him, telling him about his unsurprisingly uneventful trip to the vending machine where he saw Kageyama ‘as sullen as ever’, and Hinata practicing by himself. “Does that boy ever take a break?” He wonders, plopping back down beside Daichi. Then, he’s smiling fondly. “Remember when we had that much energy, Daichi?”

Was Suga even gay? Why had Daichi never thought to ask about it before? They were best friends; they talked about a lot of things – though, it was mostly volleyball and video games – but they’d never even brushed on the subject of girls and sexuality. Daichi knew that it in itself was weird; wasn’t that normally the thing two hormonal teenage boys talked about? He’s overheard the boys in his class talking about girls plenty of times, Kiyoko-san especially – they’d even dragged the both of them into the conversation on more than one occasion; “ _Oi, Suga, Daichi! You’re both on the volleyball team; she’s you’re manager, right? You ever seen her panties?_ ” But Suga hadn’t even bat an eye.

“Hey, are you alright?” Suga’s in front of his face now – just inches away, looking up at him with a cocked eyebrow. He presses a cool hand, moist with condensation from his drink, against Daichi’s forehead, brows furrowing. “I’ve been talking for the last 3 minutes, have you even been listening?”

“Sorry,” Daichi replies numbly, and Suga stares at him, leaning his back against the wall, face surprisingly unreadable, but to someone who knows him as well as Daichi, his thoughts are basically written across his forehead in bolded letters: **What the hell is wrong with you?**

“I’m fine,” Daichi tells him, lying through his teeth with a laugh and a smile. “I was just lost in my own thoughts, as usual.”

Suga doesn’t look particularly convinced, but Daichi holds his gaze (why was just now realizing how god damned pretty Suga was?), smile never faltering, and after a minute more of scrutinizing, Suga shrugs, breaking their eye contact to check his watch. “We should probably head back to class,” he sighs, gathering his empty can and his empty bento. He waits at the bottom of the stairs expectantly, and Daichi collects his bag and slings it over his shoulder while his best friend tosses his drink into the trash bin across the hall with deadly accuracy.

His best friend that he suddenly wanted to kiss.

“Have you seen Asahi today? He usually joins us for lunch but he didn’t respond to any of my text messages.” He asks as they head back to class, Daichi always 2 steps behind, lost in his own thoughts again.

He’s left staring at Suga’s retreating back, wondering if the silver-haired male was even gay, and more importantly, if their relationship would stay the same. He knew there was no possible way that something like this would destroy the strong bonds he and Suga had built over the last 3 years, and that they’d be friends for a long time – long after they graduated and moved on to college. And that was if Daichi dared to voice his sudden revelation out loud.

He didn't need to tell him; he could keep these feelings to himself; he could push them away again for as long as he needed, never breathing a word to Suga or anyone...

But now that he knew just how pretty Suga was - how kissable those lips were - could Daichi live with being just friends – with Suga being blissfully unaware and Daichi always wanting what he couldn’t have?

…Did he want to?

.

.

Practice that afternoon is absolutely  _horrible_ , to put it lightly.

Daichi can’t get in the right head space, can’t dive when he needs to, keeps missing shots that would be so simple to pass to Kageyama that he thinks even someone as mediocre at receiving as Hinata could do it with ease.

He curses at himself when he’s too early with his dive, skid stopping a foot before the ball drops in front of him. “Don’t mind, Daichi!” Suga calls to him, even though he’s on the opposing side setting for Asahi and Tsukishima.

He doesn’t miss the looks that are sent his way from his teammates, and even though no one says anything, Daichi can tell everyone is wondering what was up with him, and that annoys him to no end. It’s not like he _wanted_ to keep missing the ball. It’s not like he _wanted_ all of this to fall on his plate a week before the inter-high prelims. Daichi didn’t ask for this to happen; he didn’t ask for his attraction to Suga to hit him so suddenly and so hard from out of absolutely nowhere, and he _especially_ didn’t ask to be sucking at volleyball when the team was so close to something that could push Karasuno back to the top.

He doesn’t notice that he’s been standing in the middle of the court like an idiot for the last minute, staring at his feet, unmoving and oblivious to his teammates calling his name until Tanaka comes up from behind and slugs him on the shoulder, hard, literally striking him out of his thoughts. “Daichi, what are you doing?”

God, he can’t even muster the energy to glare. What _was_ he doing? He wasn’t being fair to his team. He was their captain after all, and there were more players standing on the court than jersey number 2.

He should probably just block Suga out if he was going to be such a problem for him; at least until after the prelims were over.

But Daichi knows he won’t be able to do that.

He sees Suga ducking under the net and crossing the gym to stand in front of him, he sends Tanaka a glare that is completely out of character for the gentle vice-captain, and nowhere near as terrifying as say, Kageyama’s or Daichi’s, but it’s enough for the wing spiker to make his way over to where the rest of the team is gathering on the sidelines. Suga tosses Daichi the ball in his hands and Daichi catches it on reflex alone, because once Suga looks at him, all brown eyes and sweat-soaked skin, he’s all Daichi can think about.

‘This is all your fault,’ Daichi wants to say, but he can’t because he knows this is his own damn fault. Daichi certainly didn’t ask for this, but Suga didn’t either. And it’s not like Suga knew what his mere presence alone was doing to Daichi – making the air too hot and too thick and Daichi already misses Tanaka’s unwelcomed welcomed distraction; even if it did leave his shoulder throbbing.

“What is _with_ you today?” Suga asks, voice filled with concern but edging on annoyance. “You’ve been completely zoned out since lunch.”

“It’s nothing,” Daichi says, tossing the ball up into the air and catching it. “Let’s keep practicing.” Practice sounds good – it sounds a hell of a lot better than standing there arguing with Suga with everyone watching when Daichi feels like he’s barely holding it together, anyway.

" _Daichi_ ," Suga stresses. 

Daichi can hear Tsukishima to his left; leaning against the wall as the blonde snickers behind his hand, mouth formed in a condescending smile as he says loudly, “Looks like the boyfriends are having a lovers quarrel.” Yamaguchi shushes him immediately, and really, how out of it did Daichi appear that the freckled brunette took his side over _Tsukishima’s_?

Daichi knows that it’s a joke. He knows that he and Suga act like a married couple, ‘Mom and Dad,” as Tanaka and Noya have called them before; he knows that kind of comment isn’t at all surprising from the glasses-wearing middle blocker, and Daichi knows he doesn’t mean to offend anyone by it. And normally he absolutely would not be offended, or even care at all.

Maybe it’s because of the already horrible day he’s had. Maybe it’s because Daichi is so _frustrated_ with himself because he hasn’t been able to save a ball all god damned day and the inter-high preliminaries are only a week away and if he keeps this up there is no way that Karasuno will defeat _anyone_ , and Suga has been and is currently looking at him with those worried brown eyes a foot in front of his face and Daichi feels like the biggest disappointment that there’s ever been.

Maybe it’s because Daichi has realized that he’s attracted to his best friend at the absolute worst possible time and now everything was ruined.

Whatever the reason, Daichi takes one look at Tsukishima and feels patience completely snap in two. He grips the ball in his hands, mentally tries to get some control over his spiraling emotions, but the attempts are in vain because one second he’s squeezing the ball like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing his cool and the next minute there’s a loud crack echoing across the gym and Daichi’s hands are beet red and empty.

There’s a silence that falls over the team while the ball patters across the floor before finally coming to a complete stop in the middle of the distance between Daichi and Tsukishima. The latter is staring wide-eyed at Daichi, his whole body tense, and Daichi isn’t imagining the ball-shaped indent on the mat-covered wall beside the blonde’s head.

The last thing Daichi hears before he’s storming out of the gymnasium is Suga’s surprised voice, “He was just kidding, Daichi…” and Ukai-san calling his name behind him.

.

.

His mother is home when he storms in the front door, slamming it shut behind him and throwing his duffle bag to the ground beside his shoes. He’s met with her terrified face when he enters the kitchen, and he looks at her standing beside the stove, armed with a heavy cast-iron skillet, the same brown eyes as his wide and tense.

She relaxes as soon as she recognizes him, shoulders sagging with relief, pan pressed against her chest. “Dai-kun,” she sighs, letting out a big breath. “I thought you were a murderer.”

Daichi looks at the clock on the wall. “A murderer at 4 in the afternoon?”

She puts her hands on her hips after she sets the skillet back down. Ignoring his question, she asks, “You haven’t been home this early on a school day in years. Was practice cancelled?”

Daichi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to lie to her – he’d never want to lie to her. But he definitely doesn’t want to tell her the truth, either; ‘No, Mom. Practice wasn’t cancelled. I just lost my temper and nearly assaulted a first year with a volleyball because he unknowingly reminded me of the fact that I’m attracted to my best friend.’

No, that wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have.

So instead he shrugs and settles with a half-lie as he pulls a chair out from the table and sits down. “I’m not feeling well.” Which was true. He’s had an unpleasant twisting in his gut since lunch, one that had gotten infinitely worse when Suga had confronted him during practice.

His mother, as perceptive as all mothers come, settles him with an even stare. “You’re not feeling well? And you left practice?” Her brown eyes narrow and the frown lines around her mouth deepen. She sounds skeptical. “You’ve never missed practice; not even when you had the flu last year.”

Daichi sighs, tipping his chair back to stare at the ceiling. Had that water stain always been there? “I don’t know what to tell you, Mom.”

“You could tell me the truth?” She suggests in a sing song voice that sets Daichi’s teeth on edge. He doesn’t respond, and she must finally pick up on her son’s foul mood, because she just sighs and turns back to the stove where something Daichi’s too upset to be interested in is cooking. “Fine, don’t tell me. Can you set the table at least, Grumpy?”

“I’m not hungry,” he tells her, but stands and gets 2 plates down from the shelf anyway.

Daichi can’t see the face she’s making, but she sounds like she’s having a heart attack. “Not hungry? Who are you and what have you done with my Dai-kun?” Daichi doesn’t respond, but he hears her grumble under her breath, “Maybe you are sick, after all.”

.

.

He really wasn’t hungry, but he still sat up with his mother while she ate and talked about her day – a trip to the market and a pleasant run-in with one of the neighbors – and after trying to pressure him into telling her what was really the matter seven separate times with no luck, she finally let Daichi excuse himself to his room.

Once he peels off his practice uniform, bare save for a pair of boxers, Daichi throws himself onto his unmade bed, twisting his body into his comforter until he’s wrapped in a blanket burrito, miserably looking up at the glowing plastic stars still taped to his ceiling from when he was a kid.

His dad had helped him put them up when Daichi was eight. Or maybe he was seven? He can’t quite remember and it didn’t matter, anyway. His dad left some time after that; told him and his mom that he had a whole other family that he’d kept secret for who knows how long. A wife and 2 kids; a boy and a girl, Daichi thinks. He’d packed a suitcase and left his mother broken down in tears in the kitchen and Daichi confused and not really understanding that he wouldn’t be back.

Daichi huffs and rolls over, burying his face into his pillow. Why was he thinking about that now? He hadn’t thought about his dad in years, not since he was in junior high, he had other things to think about, anyway.

Like the inter-high preliminaries.

Like his team.

Like Suga.

Glancing over at the alarm clock on his nightstand, Daichi follows the glow of the big red letters – he only had 7 hours before his alarm would be blaring and he'd barely wake up in time to shower and he would have to hurry his way to school just to face Suga and the rest of his team, and the more he stares the numbers staring back at him, the angrier he gets.

He decides that it can wait - Suga and everything else - until after he’s had a good night’s rest. Or maybe sleeping was just an excuse so he didn’t have to think about it.

Either way, he doesn’t have to stretch too far to get a grip on the cord of his alarm clock and yank it from the wall. He rolls onto his back, eyes sliding shut, but it's hours before he finds sleep, thoughts plagued with images of silver hair and plastic stars and flightless crows.

.

.


	2. never ending circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re in love with him, aren’t you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to never ending circles  
> And building them on top of me  
> And here's to another no man  
> If you want another  
> Say you need another

.

.

By the time his alarm clock sounds off, something bubbly and pop-ish and loud, it takes Suga all of 2 seconds to silence it. Had he been staring at the numbers on the clock face since 4 in the morning, watching minute after minute tick by helplessly? Maybe. It’s not unusual most days for him to be up before his alarm, anyway; he was a morning person, and his body’s natural response was to wake up before the sun, and most mornings Suga is already wide awake and dressed before his alarm even goes off.

But this was no coincidence.

Suga doesn’t think he slept a wink; and how could he with what had happened the previous afternoon? How long had Suga been awake, meticulously raking over every single detail of the day before, trying to recall if there had been anything obvious that would cause Daichi to snap the way he did? It was so unbelievably _unlike_ Daichi, it had taken him and the rest of the team by surprise when their nonviolent level-headed captain all but lost it completely. And then he left so suddenly; _Daichi,_ who  
Suga doesn’t think has missed a practice since their first year of high school.

The rest of the evening had been…tense, for lack of a better word. No one had addressed what had taken place before Daichi stormed out of the gym. Practice had resumed as usual, Ukai-san subbing in Ennoshita in Daichi’s place, and for the remaining 2 hours, the absence of their captain hung in the air like a thick fog. But not a word of it was spoken out loud; not even Nishinoya brought it up.

And if Noya, who Suga was pretty sure didn’t have a shred of tact in his body, was intuitive enough to keep his mouth shut, well…

But what the heck was it that put that look of complete and utter absence in Daichi’s eyes? Maybe it was because of how close they were, but Suga had known something was off with Daichi the minute they returned from lunch. He watched the back of his head in class in between taking down notes and could tell just by the slope of Daichi’s shoulders that whatever it was, it consumed him for the rest of day. He didn’t need to see his face to know that something was definitely weighing heavily on the black-haired captain’s mind.  
And by the time their club activities rolled around, _everyone_ could tell how disengaged Daichi was.

His unusually poor performance during practice seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back; he was missing simple shots, obviously annoyed at himself, but getting distracted by whatever it was almost immediately after he was called to attention. And then he tried to brush it off like it was nothing when Suga confronted him – like Daichi wasn’t the world’s worst liar; like his best friend wouldn’t be able to tell.

But unfortunately for Suga, he’s not a complete mind reader. He’d been able to tell something was bothering Daichi, but he didn’t know _what_ , and it was going to drive him crazy.

Suga can feel every cell in his body vibrating with nerves and anticipation on his walk to school. There are only a few students in the classroom when he arrives, and he slides into his seat, setting his backpack down onto his desk. While he’d usually take this time to go over the homework from the previous night, or catch up on some voluntary reading (even though Daichi calls him a nerd for it) he can’t help but watch the classroom door like a hawk, even though he knows Daichi would never show up earlier than absolutely necessary unless they had morning practice.

But twenty minutes tick by, the bell rings above their heads and their teacher is the last to enter the class. Daichi’s seat is the only one that’s vacant and when the teacher calls for attendance there is nothing but silence that stretches after Sawamura Daichi is called. Their teacher clicks his tongue in a disapproving manner before calling Suga’s name, to which Suga responds with a soft, “Here.”

Class resumes as usual, and while he’s digging around in his bag for his notebook, he glances at his cellphone sitting at the bottom.

Suga hadn’t wanted to bother Daichi with a text the night before, figuring that the brunette would come around on his own and be back to his usual self by the time their morning class started. But Suga stares at the empty desk in front of him, and wonders if maybe he _should_ have texted him.

He doesn’t know why he gets the feeling in his chest and the idea in his head that he absolutely must check on Daichi this very second when he knows that getting caught with his phone out during class could get him in trouble, maybe even result in a write up, but the more he looks at the empty chair where Daichi should be sitting, the stronger the feeling grows and before he knows what he’s doing he’s pulling his phone out with his notebook and hiding it in the creases of his uniform.

Suga thinks that there is no way it’s not obvious what he’s doing; what, with his not-so nonchalant glances into his lap, casually craning his head to the left and right every few seconds to make sure he’s not spotted. It takes a lot longer than it should considering it was only 4 words, but he manages to type out a simple text message without getting caught.

 

 

To: Daichi  
Hey, are you alright?

.

.

Without his alarm to wake him, and because of the sleepless hours he spent staring at the wall, Daichi sleeps well past the time he normally wakes up on a school day.

At first, panic sets in at the thought of being late – damn it, he was going to get in trouble – if not by his teacher then definitely by his mother, but he sneaks into the kitchen, ears straining to pick up the normal commotion his mother makes (and wondering why she didn’t wake him before she left for work), and finds a note on the counter addressed to him.

 

 

_Dai-kun!_  
There are leftovers in the fridge and broth on the stove!  
Feel better my poor sick boy!  
Love, Mom

Well, even if everything else in his life was currently confusing and terrible, Daichi still had his mom to take care of him – at least until he graduated.

He makes himself breakfast – or, he reheats the dinner he didn’t eat last night – and heads back to his bedroom. As he looks around his room and wonders what he should do with his day off – his free time was usually filled up with volleyball – he sets his bowl down on his nightstand and checks his phone for the time.

It’s just past 10 in the morning, and he thinks that if he was in school he’d be in the middle of an English lesson. He’d be staring out the window, and Suga would more than likely be kicking the back of his chair for not paying attention.

Daichi scoffs. Suga, that nerd.

Suga, that attractive, kissable nerd.

Damn it.

Daichi can’t believe what a complete jackass he’d been yesterday; like it was Suga’s fault that he was incapable of dealing with his feelings. Like it was his teams’ fault that he was _incapable of dealing with his feelings_. Tsukishima didn’t deserve to have Daichi threaten him like that, and is team didn’t deserve to have their captain storm out of practice the way Daichi did, especially with the interhigh preliminaries being as soon as they were.

And it was so completely out of character for him. Even though yesterday had been an emotional rollercoaster for him, it was absolutely no excuse for him to act that way.

What kind of best friend did that?

What kind of captain did that?

What kind of example was he setting for the first years?

But Daichi will be damned if he’s going to spend his entire day thinking about the exact reason he wanted to stay home in the first place, so he decides to play some video games to take his mind off of things.

Yeah, maybe the violence of a first person shooter was exactly what he needed.

.

.

Daichi is in the middle of looting the body of a dead raider (oh hell yeah, he finds 11 caps and an HP booster), when a text makes his phone, previously balanced on his bouncing left leg, vibrate off of his knee and onto the floor. He pauses the game to bend down and scoop it up, but the name that flashes on the screen nearly makes him drop it again. He feels his heartbeat quicken.

 

 

From: Suga  
Hey, are you alright?

Well, so much for _avoiding_ his problems.

He glances at the time; it wasn’t yet lunch time for Suga, which means the pale-haired boy had to have texted him in the middle of class. He tries to imagine it – Suga’s nervous brown eyes darting around the room, paranoia through the roof. The idea that Suga was staring at his empty desk, worrying about him so much that he couldn’t wait until lunch to text him made Daichi’s mouth inexplicably dry. That couldn’t be right.

But…that _was_ what was happening, wasn’t it?

Suga was texting him _in class_. Suga, a stickler for the rules and definitely not one to take getting in trouble lightly, was texting him in the _middle of class_. The realization that he was worth whatever punishment Suga was risking from getting caught makes Daichi’s stomach flip uncomfortably, and it’s a feeling that he can’t quite name but doesn’t particularly hate.

Why did Daichi feel like he could suddenly run a marathon? Why was it so hot in his room? Why was his heart beating so fast?

Maybe Daichi was overreacting. Sure, Suga was texting him in class, but that was because Suga was his best friend, and wasn’t that the sort of things best friends did?

Still, Daichi can’t help the smile that comes to his face because even if he was over-thinking things, Suga still cared enough to text him in the first place.

He considers what he’s going to text back probably half a dozen times before he tells himself to stop being such an idiot and he hits send.

 

 

To: Suga  
Yeah just feeling sick srry about yesterday

Daichi doesn’t get a text back until an hour later, when Suga must be taking their usual lunch break, when Daichi himself is again reheating the breakfast he forgot to eat. It’s not a long wait, maybe 40 minutes, but Daichi had been hyperaware of every one, checking his phone every 5 minutes because he swears he felt it vibrate or maybe he accidentally turned his vibrate off -

 

From: Suga  
No worries! I hope you feel better!

There’s a picture attached to the message: Suga’s bright eyes fill his screen – his short grey hair and his lone freckle underneath his left eye – Asahi is in the background, face blurry and surprised, and Daichi can just imagine Suga calling to him, “Hey Asahi,” waiting until just the right moment where Asahi is completely caught off guard to snap a picture of the two of them.

Underneath it is the caption: **2/3rds of a whole**

Daichi feels like his heart is about to burst.

 

 

To: Suga  
Haha Asahi’s face

From: Suga  
You better come to school tomorrow or I’ll start having withdrawals

And Daichi feels his face heating up despite himself.

 

To: Suga  
ill be there

From: Suga  
good! gtg back to class. see you tomorrow! text me if you need anything!

Now that he’s talked to Suga – even briefly – Daichi feels a lot better. Well, not exactly; he knows that he hasn’t even begun to sort out his problems, but Suga had a knack for calming him down – even if the grey haired male didn’t know it himself – and Daichi definitely feels like less of an asshole.

But it was nice to know that he could still be friendly with Suga while he sorted out his feelings. Daichi didn’t think things would change between them regardless, and there they were, texting like they always did, and even though seeing Suga’s contact picture and his name on his phone made Daichi a little bit light headed, it wasn’t that different from what it was like before.

Maybe he’d always felt this way about Suga.

Maybe, until Daichi had everything figured out, things could stay the same; for a little while, anyway. And Daichi didn’t need much time. Just until the stress of volleyball and school died down. Just until he could figure out if Suga was straight or not; just until he could figure out a game plan.

But…then they would be graduating, and that was another battle entirely.

One that Daichi doesn’t think he could handle thinking about even if he wanted to, so he unpauses his game and pushes it into the back of his mind.

He wasn’t going to concern himself with something like that - he had time before it became a problem; not much, but enough.

 

His mother gets home from work at around 3 in the afternoon, poking her head through the crack of his half-open door with a smile. “Feeling better yet, Dai-kun?”

“Yes.” he tells her, because he really is, even if it’s not in the way his mother assumes. “Did you need me to do anything around the house?”

She just smiles and shakes her head. “No, no! Just keep resting, sweetie.”

.

.

He bullshits his way through a few more levels of his videogame – which takes a lot longer than it should - when his mother calls for him from the kitchen.

He glances at the clock on the wall when she tells him that he has a visitor waiting outside. Practice has been over for 10 minutes.

He’s expecting Suga, though he wonders why the silver-haired boy didn’t come inside; his mother loves Suga and Suga loves her just as much. But when Daichi asks, his mother shrugs, returning to the newspaper splayed out in front of her on the table. “It’s not Koushi, sweetie; it’s another one of your teammates. Don’t keep them waiting.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and he ducks through the doorway into the foyer, feet padding against the hard floor. If it’s not Suga – Daichi tries to not be disappointed - then who could it be?

The door’s been left open, and though there’s no one standing outside of the screen door where Daichi can see, there’s a shadow cast by the outside light, stretching across the shrubs of his mother’s garden.

And it’s the absolute last person Daichi expects to see standing in front on his porch that greets him with a causal nod.

“Tsukishima?” Daichi doesn’t try to hide the disbelief in his tone. Immediately, he feels like he's being drowned in guilt.

He shuts the door behind him once he steps outside, because his mother, who had a healthy dose of parental curiosity, sometimes had a tendency of listening in on his conversations, and Daichi would rather her not learn of the… _incident_ that transpired at practice the day before. He can already imagine her disappointed face, and it’s enough to send shivers down his spine. “What are you doing here?”

Tsukishima avoids his gaze, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before shoving his hands into the pockets of his track pants. Daichi notices the blonde is still dressed in his practice jersey and warm up suit.

He clears his throat awkwardly, and Daichi realizes that this is the first time they’ve had a one-on-one conversation. “I wanted to apologize in person for what I said yesterday,” Tsukishima says, pointedly turning his head to look away. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Huh? Had Tsukishima said something to him?

Daichi thinks back to practice, and even though the incident is fresh on his mind despite his trying to not think about it, Daichi had been more focused on his deplorable behavior as a captain than he was with whatever it was that had caused it. Oh, that’s right. ‘Looks like the boyfriends are having a lovers quarrel,’ the blonde had said.

But it wasn’t his words that had upset Daichi. It was everyone’s eyes on him as he missed shot after shot and as he looked at Suga and as those big eyes looked back at him -

But it wasn’t Tsukishima, and if Daichi didn’t already feel absolutely horrible about taking his frustrations out on him unfairly, he _definitely_ did now for letting the blonde think he was at fault for so long.

So Daichi reaches out to pat Tsukishima on the back reassuringly (man, was this kid _tall_ ), and tells him, “It wasn’t your fault I lost my temper. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

Tsukishima shrugs in response – the closest Daichi thinks he’ll get to an ‘I forgive you’.

And just as Daichi is smiling and ready to let bygones be bygones and maybe even forgive himself for acting like such an asshole to Tsukishima for no reason, the blonde looks into his eyes and opens his mouth and says something that makes Daichi’s heart leap in his chest.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you.”

Tsukishima doesn’t really phrase it as a question, but there’s none of the condescension his words are usually dripping with. Behind his glasses, Tsukishima’s amber eyes are serious, and despite the way his heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest and land in front of his feet, Daichi really doesn’t know what else to say other than a numb, “I think so.”

He thinks he should be more surprised. Here he was, 24 hours into realizing that Sugawara Koushi was pretty damn kissable, and already he’s admitting that he might be in love with him. Shouldn’t he at least try to deny it? Or think it over for a few hours?

But Suga’s been on his mind all day, and it made sense, didn’t it?; the way his heart skipped when his name popped up on his phone, the way he felt in his stomach when he thought about him. And really, there was absolutely no one else on the planet that Daichi would rather be in love with than him.

But that’s not what unnerves Daichi so much. It’s the fact that Tsukishima, someone Daichi had only known for a short while and only interacted with during practice and even then barely so, knew something that Daichi himself hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Had Daichi been that obvious this entire time? Who else knew?

As if reading his mind, Tsukishima folds his arms over his chest and says, “I doubt anyone else on the team knows.” He scoffs. “But if you act like you did yesterday every time you’re around him, it won’t be a secret for long.”

“I want to tell him,” Daichi says, and he does – maybe not the being in love with him part, but definitely the wanting to kiss him part. God, the thought of Suga maybe wanting to kiss him too was making his head spin. “I just don’t want to complicate things before the prelims.”

Tsukishima shrugs. “That’s your business. I just came here to apologize.” The blonde adjusts the strap of his backpack on his shoulder, giving a shallow bow before he turns to leave.

“Wait!” Daichi calls out to him, because something wasn’t quite adding up. Tsukishima looks over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. Daichi asks, “How did you know?”

Tsukishima looks away again, and he mumbles his words, so soft Daichi’s ears strain to hear him. “Experience, I guess.”

“Experience?” Daichi echoes.

The question hangs in the air, unanswered.

And then, it clicks for the captain, and it’s Daichi’s turn to not phrase it as a question. “Yamaguchi.” That made sense; Tsukishima was always the first to shut someone down – the first to pick on Hinata and taunt Kageyama – but he never said a word against the freckled brunette. Didn’t move away when Yamaguchi hung off of him or followed him around.

Tsukishima’s poker face may have been impressive - the blonde doesn’t even flinch – but even in the shadows of night Daichi can see the blush darkening the first year’s cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I said what I wanted to say. I’m leaving.” This time he doesn’t stop walking until he’s passed the gate leading into the garden – until he’s out of sight.

But Daichi remains rooted to where he’s standing long after the blonde has left, a thousand thoughts running through his mind because just when he thought there couldn’t possible be any more moving parts to an already ridiculously complex situation, this is dropped on his lap.

Tsukishima was in love with Yamaguchi…he was in love with Suga…the interhigh prelims were around the corner, and tomorrow Daichi would have to go to school and deal with everything whether he wanted to or not.

Seriously, if anything else happens Daichi is positive his brain will explode.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, i love my volleyball kids. 
> 
> This is a pretty boring (and short) chapter, but I want the build up to be slow since I’m expecting this to be a 10+ chapter story, so I’m sorry but there won’t be smut for a while. 
> 
> Also, I’m very sorry this got out later than I intended! 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading


	3. tethered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twisting feeling in his stomach remains, but Daichi likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be brave when you are frightened.  
> You'll be strong when I am weak in the knees.  
> I'll be calm when you have had enough of these rushing waves.  
> You'll be the oxygen I need.

.

.

For the first time in his recent memory, Daichi is up before his alarm.

Okay, that’s not entirely true.  He wasn’t awake, really, but he was teetering on the edge of consciousness – in that hazy space between awake and asleep – when his alarm sounded off, followed by his phone seconds after.  Suga would be proud, he thinks, blinking himself awake.  It doesn’t take him the usual 20 minutes to roll out of bed, and by the time he’d normally be trudging to the bathroom for a shower, he’s already showered and dressed and saying goodbye to his mother.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, sipping serenely from a cup of coffee, staring out of the window that overlooks the rose bushes fencing the house. She looks deep in thought, but the moment he steps into the kitchen her eyes are on him.  She looks at the wall clock, confused. “You’re leaving earlier than usual, Dai-kun.  Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Daichi tells her. “I just want to get there early to see what work I missed yesterday.”

That’s not a complete lie – truthfully, he just wanted to see Suga, and if he happened to catch up on some classwork while talking to the pale haired boy, who he knew would be in class early, well, that was great, too.

“So responsible,” She coos at him, reaching up to pinch his cheek when he passes her on his way to the door.  “Have a good day, sweetheart!”

.

.

As he does every day, Daichi stops into Ukai-san’s family shop on his way to school, but that morning it is only to apologize for his behavior at practice.  The blonde coach looks up when the bell on the door rings as Daichi pulls it open.  It’s not even 8 in the morning and there’s already a cigarette dangling from his coach’s lips. 

“Oh, Sawamura,” Ukai rests his head in his palm, tilting his head and his eyes glint mischievously.  “Are we over our little tantrum, or will we be missing practice again this evening?”

Daichi doesn’t flinch at the harsh words. He knows he deserves them.  He bows, deeply.  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was not feeling well on Tuesday, but I shouldn’t have left practice in the manner I did.”

When he straightens, Ukai looks flustered.  He rubs the back of his head, sheepishly grinning around his cigarette.  Ashes fall to the counter, forgotten.  “Geez, kid, I was just busting your balls. Sugawara told me you weren’t feeling well, so no harm done.”

Daichi grins – already, this was going a lot better than he thought it would. Not that he thought it would go poorly or anything, but it was a weight off his shoulders knowing he wasn’t in any trouble with the coach.  And it was that familiar twist in his gut that Suga was worried about him.

Ukai tosses him a strawberry roll cake on his way out – Daichi catches it with his left hand, waving with his right hand, and the blonde calls after him as he’s leaving the shop; “If you get anyone else sick, I’ll make everyone run _extra_ laps!”

Daichi can’t quite help the spring in his step for the remainder of the walk to school.

 

When he enters the classroom, the few students clumped together around their respective desks look bewildered.  “Daichi? What are you doing here so early?” The girl with long blonde hair – Daichi really thinks he should remember her name – asks, raising her eyebrows. 

Daichi doesn’t remember what he says as he waves her off, because his eyes are laser focused on the occupied seat in the row of desks against the window, where Sugawara Koushi is bowed over his desk, grey hair falling over his eyes, book open in front of him.  Daichi can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest as he crosses the room towards him.

 _Be cool_ , he tells himself.  _It’s just Suga_.

It’s _just_ Suga – but wasn’t that the problem?

Suga doesn’t look up when Daichi stops a foot in front of his desk, only when Daichi sets his bag down onto his chair.  He looks up from his page – brown eyes big and have they always been that pretty?

The legs of his chair scrape against the ground when Suga jumps out of his seat, desk shaking when his knees bump against the underside in his rush.  “Daichi!” He exhales loudly.  “You’re here!” He squints over at the clock on the wall, eyebrows furrowing.  “Why are you here this early?” He shakes his head before Daichi can even open his mouth to speak.  “Doesn’t matter,” he says, reaching out before Daichi can prepare himself.  The back of his hand is cool against Daichi’s forehead and _god_ , why did Daichi feel like his knees were going to collapse?  “How are you feeling? Better?”

Daichi’s voice comes out weak. “Y-yeah.”

Suga stares at him like he doesn’t quite believe him, hand dropping from his face to his shoulder, where it rests there, harmlessly.  Harmless, but it makes Daichi’s stomach turn in that achy, bubbly way he’s gotten used to over the past 2 days. 

Now that Daichi is looking at Suga in an entirely different light, everything changes.  Daichi now relishes in the fact that the worried look in those brown eyes was for _him_ – just for him.  Why had he taken advantage of that before?  What else did he overlook while he was too busy _not noticing_? The weight of Suga’s hand on his shoulder is different as well.  Warm and heavy and sending goose bumps down his arms.  Has it always felt this good to be touched by Suga?

He’s almost mad at how blind he’d been.  He _is_ mad at how blind he’d been. How many times had Suga touched him like this, with Daichi, too self-involved to look 2 feet in front of his face to see what was now blaringly obvious, remaining ignorant to just how nice it could feel.  While Daichi doesn’t think he’s been taking Suga for granted for the past 2 years (he has always, _always_ appreciated having a friend like Suga by his side) he’s definitely wasted the last 2 years not knowing just how good his best friend made him feel – butterflies and everything.  

And now he feels like he’s left playing catch up with all of these feelings, while in the middle of the hurricane that is his last year of high school, on top of the monsoon that was volleyball.

And Daichi’s been staring at Suga like a god damned idiot for the past minute because once again he’s trapped inside of his own mind. 

Suga’s pale brows furrow, and the hand still on Daichi’s shoulder squeezes lightly.  “Are you sure?  You’re not still feeling sick, are you?”

Daichi is quick to make up an excuse, because Suga’s hand on him is sending sparks throughout his entire body and he definitely should not be thinking of how good it would feel on his hip or on his thigh.  Not in the middle of class like he’s in junior high with no control over his hormones.  “No, I’m fine.  I was just thinking of all the classwork I missed yesterday.”

The look on Suga’s face is absolutely adorable as the silver-haired male’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree, and when he lets go of Daichi to rummage through the notebooks stacked neatly on his desk, Daichi doesn’t know whether or not he’s relieved or disappointed at the loss of contact.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Suga says, flipping through his notebook.  When he finds the pages he’s looking for, he carefully tears along the perforated edge and tells Daichi, “I took notes for you yesterday!” The smile on his face when he hands Daichi the papers in his hands is contagious, and the brunette finds himself smiling as well.

It was such a _Suga_ thing to do; so considerate and Daichi is reminded that Suga was thinking of him yesterday, enough to text him _and_ jot down an extra copy of notes for him. 

The twisting feeling in his stomach remains, but Daichi likes it.  “Thanks, Suga,” and the smile on Suga’s face unmistakably grows wider.

Is this what it would be like until Daichi could figure out what he wanted to do?  Because he could definitely handle this.  It felt like the same friendship they always had, Daichi would just have to keep an even mind if Suga happened to give him more friendly body contact.  He could do that.  As long as Daichi kept his thoughts clean and a little bit of distance, who knew how long he could keep this up for?  He could do this; he could definitely do this!

And then Suga says:

“Are you still staying the night tomorrow?”

…and suddenly Daichi’s not so sure he can do it, after all.

 

Of course he’d forgotten about staying over at Suga’s before the prelims, because his mind was particularly cruel to him lately, and it seemed to like the sudden realizations and slips of memory that made Daichi squirm.

Daichi, on the other hand, could really do without the mini heart attacks he suffered as a result.  Maybe he should get a planner.  Suga had one – it was blue like his favorite scarf, with little volleyballs and crows doodled on the cover; it had everything written down in it – from practices and matches to birthdays to dentist appointments to anime-episode release dates. And it was impressive – Suga’s attention to detail was impressive, and it made Daichi kind of want to be that responsible.  He was the captain, after all – he should be responsible enough to have a _planner_.

…but then he would be just as much of a giant dork as Suga was and as Captain he was so much cooler than that –

Suga kicks his chair, snapping Daichi out of his thoughts just as their teacher passes his desk, eyes narrowed down at him like he was just waiting to call Daichi out.  He can hear Suga’s amused hum from behind him.   _Nerd_ , he thinks bitterly, but he can’t help that smile that comes to his lips.

.

.

Hinata is through the roof to see him at practice.

“Captain!” He barrels towards him, absolutely beaming. “You need to see my receives! I’ve improved so much!”

Daichi smiles, because the kid was a literal ball of energy and contagious enthusiasm (and having someone so eager for his approval was a huge stroke to his ego).

“Dumbass!” Kageyama, always lurking in the background points an accusatory finger at the orange haired decoy.  “He’s only been gone for a day, do you really think you’ve improved that much?”

Hinata sputters, face flushing red and his eyebrows furrow.  “J-jerk! Why can’t you just agree with me for once?”

Daichi sighs, thanks whoever was listening for the apparently much needed day off from his rambunctious teammates, and not unkindly tells the two first years to get started on their pre-practice warm up laps. 

They obey immediately, Hinata giving an exuberant salute that has Kageyama smacking the back of his head, and they take off in a race across the gymnasium and out of the open door into the courtyard, because apparently everything was a competition with them. 

He looks back down at the practice itinerary in his hands – those first years were so _bold_ \- and subconsciously he thinks back to when he was a first year – he remembers the awe he felt watching the Karasuno games on the television, remembers praying that he’d be good enough to get accepted into the school, be good enough to get onto the team.  He remembers how terrified he was of just being in the same room as the older players because high school volleyball was leagues more intense than junior high.

He remembers Suga beside him – how nervous those brown eyes were – shaking knees and unconvincing smile. 

Suga, at his side from day one.

_Speak of the devil and he shall come._

“Don’t think you can get out of laps just because you have a clipboard and call yourself captian!” Suga is at his side, bent over to tie his running shoes. Daichi pointedly stares harder at the circled formations on the paper, but the kanji looks a little fuzzier than normal because from the corner of his eye he can see the pale expanse of Suga’s spine from where his shirt rides up and holy _shit_ did he have dimples on the small of his back –

 Daichi’s positive Suga can hear his heart beat through his bones and muscle and skin – it’s deafening in his own ears and Suga was so close and so observant there was no way he couldn’t – and if not, there’s no way his cheeks aren’t ten shades red and obvious.  Suga straightens, and the clipboard is snatched from Daichi’s hands before he can react. 

Daichi blinks, staring at his empty palms before he looks up at Suga, already across the court.  “Let’s go!” Suga calls over his shoulder, tossing the clipboard onto the bench he passes on his way out of the gym.

 

Running is easy for Daichi.  He’s been running since he joined his junior high volleyball team – granted it was a lot easier and a lot less intense back then. But his body has grown accustomed to the burning in his legs, and the fiery sting of his lungs every time he sucks in air.  He’s used to calloused toes and blisters on the backs of his heels.

He’s used to the winding running path around the school – knows it like the back of his hand.  He’s used to the scenery and the wildflowers that grow alongside the concrete.  He knows where there are cracks in the pavement, he knows where there are inclines and gradual slopes downhill that he’s passed for years now but still manage to trip him up every time.

He’s used to running with Suga – knows the pattern of his strained breathing like it’s his own. He’s been doing this since first year, when it was just the two of them and Asahi struggling to keep up with their third-year senpais.  

Now, Daichi muses, _they’re_ the third years.

With university and graduation just around the corner. 

Soon, they won’t be running together anymore.

Soon, they might be cities apart.  

Daichi doesn’t realize he’s making a face until Suga clears his throat beside him, brown eyes round in concern when Daichi turns his head.  “You okay?” He pants out, red-faced with exertion with sweat sliding down his temple and _damn him_ , he still looked amazing.  “You’re not feeling sick are you?”

“No,” Daichi feels like he might die when a drop of sweat slides down Suga’s neck and disappears underneath the collar of his shirt.  God damn it, he’s not about to pop a boner in the middle of their practice laps, but that’s guaranteed to happen if he keeps looking at the pale-haired setter beside him, so instead he focuses on the pound of his feet beneath him. 

Suga mutters something about letting him know if Daichi needs to take a break, but he otherwise drops the topic and stares a head, but Daichi doesn’t miss the glances he sneaks over at him every so often.  He chooses to ignore them, because if he doesn’t they’ll be stuck in his head all day, and the two of them run alongside each other in comfortable quiet. 

That is, until they hear a loud cackle ahead of them, looking over just in time to see their number 4 fall to the ground in a ridiculously exaggerated fashion, while their number 5 sprints away, leaving a trail of laughter behind him. 

“Noya,” Daichi calls out when they near the tiny brunette lying on the side of the running path up ahead, sprawled out like he’s dying.  He feels a little bit better when he’s back in captain mode – when those rusty brown eyes aren’t trained on him as closely. “What are you doing?”

“Me and Tanaka were racing!” He calls back, gasping like he’s taking his last breath.  “I got a cramp!”

Suga sighs – a soft exhale through his parted, panting lips that has Daichi’s heart fluttering, and he shakes his head but he’s smiling.  “I’ll help him,” Of course he would, because Suga took care of everyone.  “I’ll see you back at the gym,” he tells Daichi, before breaking off from the running path to jog up to the slumped over Nishinoya. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Daichi can hear Suga chiding, and the libero shouts out something about Suga being ‘ _the guardian deity of his heart and his hamstrings_ ’, and Daichi tears his gaze away from the two of them before he has a chance to see Suga hook his fingers underneath the ball of Noya’s left leg, pushing down on him until the brunette grunts and his toes touch the ground above his shoulder.

His eyes shift to the path in front of him just in time for him to skid and stumble to a halt only seconds before he would have collided into Tsukishima’s tall, lithe frame. 

Damn Suga for being so _distracting_.

Tsukishima acknowledges him with a sharp nod, breathing heavy through his nose.  Daichi makes a similar gesture and they run side by side in companionable silence – nothing between them but the sound of their feet pounding against the pavement, and their harsh breathing. 

Until the blonde suddenly speaks, catching Daichi off-guard, and really he shouldn’t be so surprised at how surprising the middle blocker was turning out to be.

Tsukishima looks embarrassed almost – and he clears his throat before speaking, voice strained with exertion.  “I’ve been thinking that I may have overstepped my boundaries last night.”

Daichi feels his face heating up at just the mention of the night before – with Tsukishima on his doorstep admitting that he knew how he felt about Suga because he felt similarly for Karasuno’s number 12. 

He shakes his head – kind of doesn’t want to talk about it but also maybe does want to talk about it a little bit because as much as Daichi was used to bottling up his emotions, Tsukishima and him had maybe a heart-to-heart last night, and maybe it was good for the both of them.  “Don’t worry about it,” he decides sounds the least brushed off.  “It was…nice to talk about it.”

“Have you made any decisions?” The blonde asks, and Daichi doesn’t know.

“I don’t know.” That comes out a little bit harsher than he meant it, so he adds, “We’re supposed to hang out tomorrow – but the prelims are on Saturday and it’s just –“ His voice breaks, and wow, Daichi didn’t realize he was getting this worked up.  He tries to relax his jaw, but it seems to be wired shut.  He grits out, “Everything is so complicated.”

“Yeah,” is all Tsukishima offers.

Daichi hesitates a moment, “Thanks, Tsukki.” The name feels weird on his tongue – too short and too intimate, and the blonde bristles.

“Please, don’t call me that.”

They’re interrupted before Daichi can tease him, by the sound of another pair of feet sneaking up from behind, gradually getting louder and both players look over their shoulders in time to see a panting, flushed Yamaguchi. 

Just over his shoulder, Daichi can see Suga and Noya sprinting with long strides, seemingly in a race, and Suga is laughing and Daichi’s stomach lurches. 

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi grins, clapping him on the back before Tsukishima can react – but he does.  It’s so inconspicuous Daichi barely notices it himself, but now that he knows, it’s kind of obvious.  And kind of endearing – the way Tsukishima flushes, just a bit, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of this nose.

Yamaguchi is apparently oblivious. “Everyone’s racing! Hinata and Kageyama are tied already, but Nishinoya and Suga-san are racing too! I bet I can beat you!”

Tsukishima scoffs into his hand, and it’s like Daichi isn’t even there.  The captain half expects the blonde to decline, mumble something about wasted effort, but because the middle blocker is full of secrets and surprises, or maybe because it’s Yamaguchi, he says, “you’re on,” and they take off running.

Daichi slows down, watches as the freckled brunette pushes Tsukishima off of the running path and onto the grass, making the blonde lose his footing momentarily, stumbling behind as Yamaguchi leaps ahead, and he trails after Yamaguchi, always a step behind.

“Daichi!” Suga voice is light at his ear, touch even lighter on his shoulder, slipping past him and in front of him, running backwards and tripping over his own feet.  He’s beautiful with the sunshine behind him, light framing his head like a halo because Sugawara Koushi is an angel.  His fingers trail down his arm and tuck into his hand, grasping fingers entwined and Daichi is pulled forward to meet his pace.  “Race you!” He laughs like wind chimes, eyes bright like the sun before he turns on his heel, dropping his hand and it burns at the loss of contact.

Daichi can’t focus on much else but Suga’s small shoulders – the way his arms move when he runs – the sound of his feet, running in time with his – the tips of his ears peeking out from his silver hair –

The ground beneath his feet disappears, but it’s nothing like the crushing desperation he felt the other day.

Daichi feels like he’s flying, with Suga as his guide.

He stares at his back – the large number 2 on his practice uniform – and Daichi follows him blindly.

.

.

The next day – the day before the prelims – is an absolute blur.

Daichi doesn’t know how he manages to button his uniform, or how he finds himself sitting at his desk seconds before the bell rings.  He’s on a terrifying autopilot for the entire day, zoned out in class enough to make the teacher notice and he thinks normally he would have snapped at him, but the entire class has wished him luck as the captain – they must all know how important it was to him. And how restless he is.

Behind him, Suga doesn’t kick the back of his chair. He can hear the grey-haired setter tapping his pen against the desk rhythmically.  He thinks Suga might be as anxious as he is.  

He doubts it, though.  Because yeah, Suga was going to be with him at the prelims, hopefully playing by his side – and Daichi really _does_ hope because playing with Suga is his favorite thing in the world.  But Suga wasn’t about to spend the night in the house of the boy he maybe-kind-of-loved. He didn’t have feelings for his best friend gnawing at his brain and always on the tip of his tongue.

He doesn’t know what scares him more – being with Suga, just the two of them, nothing stopping him from opening his big, dumb mouth and potentially saying things that could ruin things between them – or the fact that prelims were less than 24 hours away.

He’s being stupid – of course prelims was the greater of two evils, but he wasn’t facing that alone; he’d have his team – _his_ team, because he was their _captain_ and they were counting on him. 

Prelims were much scarier than Sugawara Koushi – Suga, who was possibly the least threatening human being on the planet.

But _prelims_ didn’t have pretty skin and a gentle, supportive smile.  Prelims didn’t have wide brown eyes and soft hair and warmth radiating from every cell in its body.

Prelims wasn’t 2 inches away, with its leg pressed against Daichi’s thigh, falling against his shoulder as it leans its body against him with his bottom lip trapped between its teeth.

Daichi blinks.  He’s in Suga’s bedroom, with the sunset filtering through his window.  There’s a controller in his hand…how long has he been here?  How the hell did he _get_ here?

Seriously, the last thing he remembered was staring out of the window in class, and now he was in Suga’s home, next to Suga.

“Seriously, Daichi?” Suga pauses the game and sets his controller down onto his knee, sending Daichi an accusatory look.  “I mean, you’re usually really bad at Mario kart, but you’re never _this_ _terrible_.”

Daichi feels his face heating up because this lapse in memory can’t be normal. Or good.  He’s probably dying; early Alzheimer’s or something just as terrible and ironic because Daichi’s current life was spitting out obstacle after obstacle, desperate to see him fall and memory loss on top of everything else is almost a kind favor.

Suga is unaware of his internal struggle. “Is this about prelims?” Suga’s voice is soft – understanding.  He sighs, a fond smile pulling on his lips.  Daichi can’t do much but stare.  “You gave such an inspirational speech today after practice, but you don’t even believe your own words, do you?”

Huh? Had there been practice? Had Daichi given a _speech_?

“We’re going to do our best tomorrow, and no matter the outcome, I’m so proud of our team, Daichi.”  Suga sighs again, more sharply, and bumps their shoulders together.  “We couldn’t have asked for a better captain.”

Daichi feels his face heating up.  Even if he couldn’t remember earlier in the day – even if he’s been on autopilot, he’s here with Suga now. He can feel the heat radiating off of Suga’s body beside him and he should cherish this. 

Daichi bumps his shoulder back, and noticing his captain is back to normal, the setter positively beams.

He says, grinning, “Now are you going to try to redeem yourself from that pathetic round?”

Seeing his smile – so genuine and so _Suga_ , Daichi feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off of his shoulders – if only for the moment.  He smirks challengingly.  “Bring it on.”

They stop when Suga’s mother calls up the stairs that dinner is ready, and Suga shuts off the game much to Daichi’s relief because he was getting his ass handed to him, and Suga was extremely competitive on Rainbow Road.  They eat dinner with Suga’s parents and his younger brother – who is moody and dark-haired and reminds Daichi of a younger Kageyama but Daichi’s known the kid for 3 years now and loves him – Suga’s mother – who Daichi also loves because she is honey-sweet and cooks the best food Daichi’s ever tasted - pinches Daichi’s cheek in a way that reminds him of his own mom, and says, ‘I can’t get over how grown up you are, Daichi! You get even more handsome every time I see you!’  Suga snickers behind his hand and his brother sighs dramatically.  

She sends them up to the stairs seconds after Daichi has swallowed the last bite of his dinner, telling them that they both needed to get as much sleep as they could for their ‘big game tomorrow’. Suga helps him set up the guest futon beside his own bed – makes fun of the fact that Daichi is terrible at fitting the sheets onto the corner of the mattress and Daichi throws a pillow at him and it feels normal – the familiar feeling of content he feels when they have sleepovers hasn’t been ruined by his weird, new more-than-a-crush on Suga.

It’s only when Suga comes back from the bathroom across the hall after brushing his teeth, dressed in a thin white shirt and sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, and turns the lights off - cloaking them in darkness - that Daichi feels his heart race.

 _This is so stupid_ , he thinks. _It’s been fine up until now._ He feels Suga brush against the futon to climb into his own bed.  _Don’t make it weird, don’t make it weird._ Daichi wishes he was climbing onto his – onto him.

 _Fuck_.

Suga heaves a heavy sigh – but it’s still feather light and an octave too high to be decent, and it settles into the base of Daichi’s spine. That one little sigh – for the sole reason that it came from Suga - seems to split all of the blood in Daichi’s body in half; half of it rushing to light his face on fire – the other half swelling and pressing against the waistband of his sleeping pants. 

_Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck –_

“Oh,” Suga says suddenly, making Daichi’s heart leap in his throat.  He swallows it down, but it stays stubbornly as a lump of arousal on his tongue.  It’s a challenge to hear Suga’s soft voice over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.  “Remember on Tuesday when Asahi wouldn’t respond to my texts during lunch?”

Daichi nods – of course he remembered Tuesday. For everything he was forgetting lately, he definitely couldn’t forget Tuesday.  After a moment of silence he remembers that Suga can’t see his nod in the dark – he makes an agreeable noise. “Mmhm.”

“One of the second years on the girls’ volleyball team was confessing to him.”

“Really?” Daichi doesn’t think he’s surprised.  Asahi was good looking, Daichi thinks – has always been that way, but he’s just now realizing it now that he doesn’t have his head up his ass.  The ace was towering – solid; he pulled off his long hair and his scruffy beard and yeah, as far as people that weren’t Suga went, he definitely wasn’t unattractive.  “What did he say?”

Suga is silent for a moment, and then he says, quieter: “He said he had too much going on with volleyball and his final year to think about a relationship right now.  Apparently she took it pretty well, but Asahi was kind of bummed. He didn’t say it, but I think he secretly wants a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” Daichi wonders if his voice shakes when he says, “Do you?”

Suga doesn’t answer for a moment, and it’s easily the longest moment of Daichi’s life – he doesn’t think he even breathes.  What if he said he did? What if there’s already someone he likes – a girl that he likes.  But Suga says, “I don’t know, not really.” And Daichi lets out the air he didn’t know he was holding.  “Do you?”

 _Yes, you_.  Daichi swallows. There’s no way he can say that.  “Maybe.” He hesitates, and leaving it so open ended feels uncomfortable.  “It’s weird that we’ve never talked about this.”

Suga hums in agreement.  “It’s not something I think about. I guess I just assumed you didn’t either.” Oh. Suga didn’t think about girlfriends.  Maybe that meant he didn’t think about girls. Maybe he was being purposely obtuse.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on Daichi’s end.

Suga continues, “You can talk to me about that kind of stuff, you know.  Even if you think it’s something I wouldn’t want to hear.”

Daichi’s breath catches in his throat – what did he mean by that?  “What wouldn’t you want to hear?”

“I don’t know,” He murmurs quickly.  “Forget it.”

Daichi wonders what Suga looks like right now – if he’s staring flush-faced at his ceiling like Daichi is.  He’s too afraid to turn his head and look, so he keeps his eyes on the dark in front of him.  There are no stars on Suga’s ceiling – not like in Daichi’s room - but Daichi doesn’t care.  He likes it.  He likes the obvious evidence that he’s in Suga’s house, in Suga’s bedroom, with Suga.   

They fall into comfortable but heavy silence – something obviously weighing on both of their minds.  For Daichi, it’s what Suga had said.

What wouldn’t Suga want to hear from him? How would Suga react if he told him that he did want a girlfriend, that there was a girl that he liked?  How would Suga react if Daichi told him that he was gay, that he wanted a boyfriend?

How would Suga react if he told him he wanted it to be him?

Daichi doesn’t know how long he lies there in the dark – calmed and unnerved simultaneously by the soft lull of Suga’s deep, even breathing, but it seems like forever and at the same time not enough at all. 

Daichi wills himself to sleep – or at least, close his eyes and try.  He couldn’t be thinking about anything like that right now; not when prelims were less than 12 hours away. 

Feelings aside, they had a big day ahead of them.

(Feelings aside, Daichi doesn’t find sleep for several more hours.)

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Thank you all so much for all of the kudos, bookmarks and comments. And as always, thank you for reading!


End file.
